I still don't have a real job, but I did manage to type up some resume-like documents. Progress has been slow as I got caught up making a new storybook. Business is still dead.

Meanwhile, Littlestar is off riding a chestnut mare named Felicity. The horse belongs to the sister of a man who's going to bankroll Littlestar's latest plan for world domination:

Whoda thunk it? We're going to open a bar.


We went to see it yesterday, right on the corner of Yonge in downtown Bradford West Grillimbury, across from a strip club. The interior's been done up in that faux-English pub style that's been all the rage with the franchise taverns, and the exterior is faced with wood and olde style cross-grilling on the windows. The place is called The Winchester Arms.

It features a holistic healing centre in the rear, and three apartments on top. There is a main bar area and restaurant seating area in the back. The whole thing is floored with blood red carpeting, to hide the stains.

I don't know if there's room for pool tables, but I hope so.

Littlestar has met with several times with her investor since Old Oak and his fishing pal Adolph Stickler went to pick him up from prison on Friday, where the investor had been sojourning while contemplating the impropriety of driving drunk. The three old men piled into the car in Penetanguishene and started immediately debating loudly in Latvian about which bottle of liquor should be unscrewed first.

If they played loud music while they blasted down the highway I shudder to imagine what it might have been.

I came downstairs to meet them, leaving off an illustration of a dead cat in favour of mooching a beer. I shook hands with a red-cheeked and red-nosed Adolph Stickler, and told him he was dressed sharp enough to appear in court. I greeted Old Oak, and heard about the details of the release.

Then Phineas Nigellus rose from the easychair, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair long. He grasped my hand firmly and would not let it go, pumping it enthusiastically as he drawled to me in Latvian.

I smiled and nodded, which seemed to satisfy old Phineas Nigellus. He broke into a cackle and sat down again, pawing around for his cigarettes and spilling his drink.

"He plans to open a dairy farm in Latvia, subsidized by the government for bringing in German holsteins, ja," Old Oak whispered to me. "Bloody stupid if you ask me, ja, putting everything in the hands of some Latvian cousin. They can't be trusted!"

"No, no, no," echoed Adolph Stickler in agreement, tottering as he stood.

"I think he's gone a bit crazy in the prison, ja," opined Old Oak. "Like a temporary insanity due to being locked up so long."

"Ja, ja, ja," confirmed Adolph.

I joked, "Quickly, before he regains his senses -- somebody tell him to give all his money to Littlestar so she can open a bar!" We all had a hearty chuckle, except Littlestar who had appeared that moment at the door.

"Is he here?" she asked, craning her neck around the corner.

"Yes, go talk to him now," urged her mother. "Quickly, before he gets on the phone to Latvia again!"

When Littlestar came upstairs a few hours later she plopped down on the couch and sighed. "Well," she declared. "I've got my bar."

Right.

Lots of details to be worked out. Littlestar pours over her computer, researching numbers. She spends an hour on the telephone getting taught some business basics by Beurre d'Arachide, and then spends an even longer time picking the brain of my father, Mashed Potato Pop, since he is even now in the process of opening up a restaurant in Port D. with his brother Ken Baxter, called Hemming's Broken Plate.

Littlestar investigated a number of properties including a busy cowboy bar called the OK Corral which had booked the Dixie Chicks for next week, but Littlestar figured if she got that one she'd end up being a concert promoter more than running a bar. We both went to see the Winchester Arms together, and declared it the sure fire winner.

The next phase was to find out why it was for sale. For this Littlestar elected to chat up Phineas Nigellus' sister Beatrix Lestrange, who is in touch with town business gossip. They went to swim in her pool. Beatrix was so taken with Littlestar and Popsicle that she insisted that they visit the nearby horse-farm to visit her poor neglected bazillion-dollar mare. Littlestar explored the dreadlocks in her mane sadly, which Beatrix noticed and lamented that she didn't have the time to take proper care of the horse.

So...that's how Littlestar ended up with a chestnut mare to ride, whenever she feels like it. Like I said, that's what she's doing right now -- brushing and riding Felicity.

When she gets back she'll be crunching numbers in a rush to get some specifics to Phineas Nigellus before he departs to take care of his affairs overseas. I hope he gets a haircut first, because he looks really scary right now. Then again that may be an asset while wheeling and dealing in former Soviet republics.

I'm babysitting the tot, because Mlle. J. is in the big city being shown a good time by my sister Xena. The kid is asleep. I'm duplicating demo reel DVDs and eating sour keys. Life is good, but it would be better if I had some beer.

So, depending on how things go, I might be signing up for a bartending course.

Life is weird.